Where hast thou been preserv'd? where liv'd? how found [I, Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv'd Myself, to see the issue.

Paul. There's time enough for that;
Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble
Your joys with like relation.-Go together,
You precious winners* all; your exultation
Partaker to every one. 1, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and
there

My mate, that's never to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

Leon. O peace, Paulina;

Thou should'st a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast
found mine;

* You who by this discovery have gained what you de. + Participate.

sired.

But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her, As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said many

A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far (For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee An honourable husband:-Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty,

Is richly noted; and here justified

By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place.What? Look upon my brother!-both your pardons,

ing,)

That e'er I put between your holy looks
My ill suspicion.-This your son-in-law,
And son unto the king, (whom heavens direct-
Llina,
Is troth-plight to your daughter.-Good Pau-
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely
Each one demand, and answer to his part
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first
We were dissever'd: Hastily lead away.

[Exeunt.

2 P

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-A Hall in the DUKE's Palace. Enter DUKE, ÆGEON, Jailer, Officer, and other Attendants.

And, by the doom of death, end woes and all.
Ege. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall,
Duke. Merchant of Syracusa, plead no more;
I am not partial, to infringe our laws:
The enmity and discord, which of late [duke
Sprung from the rancorous outrage of your
To merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,-
Who, wanting gilders to redeem their lives,
Have sealed his rigorous statutes with their

bloods,

old,

I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave.
In Syracusa was I born; and wed
Unto a woman, happy but for me,
And by me too, had not our hap been bad.
With her I liv'd in joy; our wealth increas'd,
And he (great care of goods at random left)
By prosperous voyages I often made
To Epidamnum, till ny factor's death;
Drew me from kind embracements of my spouse:
From whom my absence was not six months
Before herself (almost at fainting, under
The pleasing punishment that women bear,)
Had made provision for her following me,
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was,
There she had not been long, but she became
A joyful mother of two goodly sons; [other,
And, which was strange, the one so like the
As could not be distinguish'd but by names.
That very hour, and in the self-same inn,
A poor mean woman was delivered
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike:
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor,
I bought, and brought up to attend my sons.
My wife, not meanly proud of two such boys,
Made daily motions for our home return:
Unwilling I agreed; alas, too soon.
We came aboard :

A league from Epidamnum had we sail'd.
Before the always-wind-obeying deep
Gave any tragic instance of our harm:
But longer did we not retain much hope;
For what obscured light the heavens did grant
Did but convey unto our fearful minds
A doubtful warrant of immediate death;

Which, though myself would gladly have em

brac'd,

Yet the incessant weepings of my wife,
Weeping before for what she saw must come,
And piteous plainings of the pretty babes,
That mourn'd for fashion, ignorant what to
fear,

Forc'd me to seek delays for them and me.
And this it was,-for other means was none.~
The sailors sought for safety by our boat,
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us:

My wife, more careful for the latter-born,
Had fasten'd him unto a small spare mast,
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms;
To him one of the other twins was bound,
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other.
The children thus dispos'd, my wife and I,
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd,
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast;
And floating straight, obedient to the stream,
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought.
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth,
Dispers'd those vapours that offended us;
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light,
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered
Two ships from far making amain to us,
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this:
But ere they came,-O, let me say no more!
Gather the sequel by what went before.

Duke. Nay, forward, old man, do not break off so

For we may pity, though not pardon thee.
Ege. O, had the gods done so, I had not now
Worthily term'd them merciless to us!
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five
leagues,

We were encounter'd by a mighty rock;
Which being violently borne upon,
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst,
So that, in this unjust divorce of us,
Fortune had left to both of us alike
What to delight in, what to sorrow for.
Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe,
Was carried with more speed before the wind;
And in our sight they three were taken up
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought.
At length, another ship had seiz'd on us;
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save,
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwreck'd
guests;

And would have reft the fishers of their prey,
Had not their bark been very slow of sail,
And therefore homeward did they bend their
Thus have you heard me sever'd from my bliss;
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd,
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps.

course.

Duke. And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for,

[care,

Do me the favour to dilate at full
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now.
Ege. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest
At eighteen years became inquisitive
After his brother; and impórtun'd me,
That his attendant, (for his case was like,
Reft of his brother, but retain'd his name,)
Might bear him company in the quest of him :
Whom whilst I labour'd of a love to see,
I hazarded the loss of whom I lov'd.
Five summers have I spent in furthest Greece,
Roaming cleant through the bounds of Asia,
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus;
Hopeless to find, yet loath to leave unsought,
Or that, or any place that harbours men.
But here must end the story of my life;
And happy were I in my timely death,
Could all my travels warrant me they live.
Duke. Hapless Egeon, whom the fates have
mark'd

To bear the extremity of dire mishap!
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws,
Against my crown, my oath, my dignity,
Which princes, would they, may not disannul,
My soul should sue as advocate for thee.
But, though thou art adjudged to the death,
+ Clear, completely.

♦ Deprived.

And passed sentence may not be recall'd,
But to our honour's great disparagement,
Yet will I favour thee in what I can:
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day,
To seek thy help by beneficial help :
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus;
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum,
And live; if not, then thou art doom'd to die:-
Jailer, take him to thy custody.
Jail. I will, my lord.

Ege. Hopeless, and helpless, doth Ægeon wend,*

But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A public Place.

Enter ANTIPHOLUS and DROMIO of Syracuse, and a MERCHANT.

Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidamnum,

Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate.
This very day, a Syracusan merchant
Is apprehended for arrival here;
And, not being able to buy out his life,
According to the statute of the town,
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west.
There is your money that I had to keep.

Ant. S. Go bear it to the Centaur, where we host,

And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee.
Within this hour it will be dinner-time:

Till that, I'll view the manners of the town,
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings,
For with long travel I am stiff and weary.
And then return, and sleep within mine inn;

Get thee away.

Dro. S. Many a man would take you at your word,

And go indeed, having so good a mean.

[Exit DRO. S.

When I am dull with care and melancholy, Ant. S. A trusty villain, Sir; that very oft, Lightens my humour with his merry jests. What, will you walk with me about the town, And then go to my inn, and dine with me?

Mer. I am invited, Sír, to certain merchants, Of whom I hope to make much benefit; I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, Please you, I'll meet with you upon the mart,§ And afterwards consort you till bed-time; My present business calls me from you now. Ant. S. Farewell till then I will go lose

myself,

And wander up and down, to view the city. Mer. Sir, I commend you to your own con[Exit MERCHANT. Ant. S. He that commends me to mine own

tent.

She is so hot, because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold, because you come not home;
You come not home, because you have no
stomach;

You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

Ant. S. Stop in your wind, Sir; tell me this, I pray ; [you? Where have you left the money that I gave Dro. E. 0,-sixpence, that I had o'Wednesday last,

To pay the saddler for my mistress' crupper;— The saddler had it, Sir, I kept it not.

Ant. S. I am not in a sportive humour now: Tell me, and dally not, where is the money? We being strangers here, how dar'st thou trust So great a charge from thine own custody? Dro. E. I pray you, jest, Sir, as you sit at

dinner:

I from my mistress come to you in post;
If I return, I shall be post indeed;

For she will score your fault upon my pate. Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be your clock,

And strike you home without a messenger. Ant. S. Come, Dromio, come, these jests are out of season;

Reserve them till a merrier hour than this: Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? Dro. E. To me, Sir? why you gave no gold

to me.

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done your foolishness,

the mart

And tell me, how thou hast dispos'd thy charge.
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you from
[ner;
Home to your house, the Phoenix, Sir, to din.
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you.
Ant. S. Now, as I am a Christian, answer

me,

[ney; In what safe place you have bestow'd my moOr I will break that merry sconce of yours, That stands on tricks when I am indispos'd: Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of me?

Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon

my pate,

Some of my mistress' marks upon my shoulders, But not a thousand marks between you both.-If I should pay your worship those again, Perchance, you will not bear them patiently. Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks! what mistress, slave, hast thou?

Dro. E. Your worship's wife, my mistress at the Phoenix; [ner, She that doth fast, till you come home to din And prays, that you will hie you home to dinner.

Ant. S. What, wilt thou flout me thus unto my face,

Being forbid? There, take you that, sir knave.
Dro. E. What mean you, Sir? for God's sake,
hold your hands;
Nay, an you will not, Sir, I'll take my heels.
[Exit DROMIO, E.
Ant. S. Upon my life, by some device or
other,

The villain is o'er-raught of all my money.
They say, this town is full of cozenage;
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye,
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind,
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body;
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks,
And many such like liberties of sin :

Enter ADRIANA, and LUCIANA. Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave re. turn'd,

That in such haste I sent to seek his master! Sure, Luciana, it is two o'clock.

Luc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited him, [dinner, And from the mart he's somewhere gone to Good sister, let us dine, and never fret: A man is master of his liberty: Time is their master; and, when they see time, They'll go, or come: If so, be patient, sister. Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be

more?

woe.

But hath its bound, in earth, in sea, in sky:
There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye,
Are their males' subject, and at their controls:
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls,
Men, more divine, and masters of all these,
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas,
Indued with intellectual sense and souls,
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls,
Are masters to their females, and their lords:
Then let your will attend on their accords.

Adr. This servitude makes you to keep un

wed.

Luc. Not this, but troubles of the marriage bed.

Adr. But, were you wedded, you would bear

some sway.

Luc. Ere I learn love, I'll practice to obey. Adr. How if your husband start some other where?

Luc. Till he come home again, I would forbear.

Adr. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though They can be meek, that have no other cause. she pause; A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry; But were we burthen'd with like weight of pain, [plain : As much, or more, we should ourselves comSo thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee, [me: With urging helpless patience would'st relieve But, if thou live to see like right bereft, This fool-begg'd patience in thee will be left. Luc. Well, I will marry one day, but to try ;Here comes your man, now is your husband nigh.

Enter DROMIO of Ephesus.

Adr. Say is your tardy master now at hand Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, and that my two ears can witness.

Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? know'st thou his mind?

Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon mine [it. Beshrew his hand, I scarce could understand

ear: